


But Watch How Good I'll Fake It

by luminousbeings



Series: Marriage of Inconvenience AU [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminousbeings/pseuds/luminousbeings
Summary: “It’s just such a shame that you didn’t get in to Princeton, with your husband,” says Mrs. Cooper. “Wouldn’t that have been wonderful?”“I didn’t apply to Princeton.”“He wouldn’t have enjoyed it,” says Burr.“They accept people like him there,” says Alex, jerking his thumb toward Burr.





	But Watch How Good I'll Fake It

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little self-indulgent drabble that takes place about a year after A Marriage of Inconvenience, because platonic husbands.

Alex could say that since getting married and joining an aggressively homophobic church, he never got dragged into attending another eyeball-curdling prayer service again, but that would be a lie. He’s been pulled in on early Sundays for funerals, Bar Mitzvahs (don’t ask), graduations, and the many other gay marriages officiated at said church. They’re still just as homophobic as they always were, only now they regularly officiate gay marriages. Seriously, don’t ask.

At least this time he gets to be there for a celebration of his own. But the downside of that is the part where he can’t just grab Burr’s hand and run for the door the moment church is over, he has to stand around after the services to be congratulated for his acceptance into Columbia. Which, granted, is a pretty awesome cross to bear.

So to speak.

“Congratulations, Alexander, I hope this is a year of great growth and opportunity for you.”

“Thank you, Father,” says Alexander politely, his husband a silent force of judginess at his side.

“It’s just such a shame that you didn’t get in to Princeton, with your husband,” says Mrs. Cooper. “Wouldn’t that have been wonderful?”

“I didn’t apply to Princeton.”

“He wouldn’t have enjoyed it,” says Burr.

“They accept people like _him_ there,” says Alex, jerking his thumb toward Burr.

The middle-aged white people around them titter like they’re not being completely serious.

“It would have been convenient, though,” says Martin. “Lower your gas bill on the commute at least.”

“And Aaron could have helped you transition into the school. He is so helpful and supportive.”

“Oh, Ms. Nave, stop,” Aaron demurs, not even marginally sincere.

“I help him too,” Alex pipes up.

“No you don’t,” says Burr.

“Sure I do!”

“You really don’t.”

“I made you stop smoking!”

“You grabbed the cigarette out of my hands, threw it into a puddle, and screamed, ‘NO!’”

“I was firm and yet supportive of your internal struggle.”

“You yelled ‘LUNG CANCER!’ in my face every day for two weeks until I promised to never smoke again.”

“It was a subtle process,” says Alexander, nodding.

“And you’re entering Princeton law school next year, right, Aaron?” Mrs. Cooper asks, her expression clearly indicating her intense internal struggle to not pinch their cheeks. “What kind of law will you be practicing?”

“Well,” says Burr slowly, “it’s a complex field. And with so many possibilities for specialization it’s difficult to say for certain which—”

“He’s becoming a defense attorney,” Alex tells Mrs. Cooper. “Obviously.”

“It’s true, that is pretty obvious,” Steve pipes up.

Aaron looks at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Steve hesitates. “Nothing! Just that. You seem like you… like you’d be good at…. defending… people.”

“He means you’re slimy,” says Alex cheerfully. He tries to sling his arm around his husband’s shoulder and cowers away at the look he gets for the attempt.

“Isn’t it difficult, though? Defending criminals?” Marianne asks. “I heard that in ninety-eight-percent of criminal cases that make to court trial, the defendants really are guilty.”

“The structure of the legal system is very delicate,” says Burr noncommittally. Hamilton snorts.

“What about you, Alexander?” asks Mrs. Cooper. “You’re entering pre-law too, do you know what you’d like to do with your law degree?”

“I sure do!” says Alex, puffing up. “You’re looking at a future prosecutor for the United States of goddamn America! Puttin’ the bad guys in jail, kickin’ ass, takin’ names.” He punches the air in front of him a few times for good measure. “And then on to mayor, and then Senator, and then President!”

The old ladies around them coo. Burr just huffs out a sigh like he’s too tired for all of it.

“You two are such a cute couple,” says Marianne, leaning conspiratorially over her walker. “I love the Christmas cards you send out, by the way. Larry and I still have your last one on our fridge, we just can’t bring ourselves to throw it out!”

A man in his late fifties standing nearby – a little…too nearby, actually – nods his agreement. “I still wish you’d kissed on the day of your wedding. I was waiting for it.”

“Uh,” says Alex. “What?”

The man doesn’t reply; just keeps up the creepily steady eye contact and the standing slightly too close to be considered courteous.

“Um,” says Alex, starting to panic just the tiniest bit. “Honey?”

A moment later Burr is at his side, reaching over and shaking hands with the guy, forcing him to look away from Alex. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Mr. Dreely! Off parole for those mafia hitman charges I see, that’s great.”

Ah. Well that explains a lot.

“Accessory to the mafia hitman charges,” Dreely corrects, like he’s disappointed.

“Well, I’m glad you’re doing well after that awful trial,” Burr says. “I wanted to speak to you, by the way – my husband here is going to be running for mayor in not too long. I hope we can count on your help?”

“ _Burr_!” Alex yells.

Aaron looks at him. “What?”

Alex pulls him away a few paces from the crowd and hisses, “We can’t make nice with that guy! He’s a _hitman for the mafia_!”

“Technically he’s an accessory to a hitman for the mafia.”

“Technically?”

“The other charges got dropped mysteriously,” says Burr. “No one knows what happened.”

Alex stares. “He’s a murderer!”

“He’s a voting citizen,” Aaron replies calmly.

“Oh my God,” Alex groans, burying his face in his hands. “I will never understand you. I can’t believe I have sixty more years of this.”

“More like eighty. The average lifespan has increased on average by ten years every twenty years, so over the course of our lifetimes it is reasonable to assume there will be at least a twenty year difference in the life expectancy rates.”

“ _Ughhh_ ,” Alexander replies eloquently, muffled by his the hands over his face.

Susan catches Burr’s eye from over the chattering crowd, her gaze flicking over the two of them and her expression going disappointed. “Oh. Leaving so soon?”

“Sorry Mrs. Price,” Alex calls. “We gotta get back to the house!”

“More damage control to do?” Dreely asks, eyebrows raised and voice laden with some kind of lewd meaning. Alex stares at him, deeply disturbed. Burr doesn’t seem bothered at all though – the sound he makes is like the single-voice version of a canned sitcom laugh track.

“Send me the video,” calls Dreely. Burr gives him a polite smile.

“Creep,” Alex mutters.

“Voting citizen,” says Burr, just as quietly, holding the door open for his husband. Alex blinks at it, then smirks.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Hamilton.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Burr,” says Aaron dryly.

“Oh, they are just the picture of domestic bliss,” says Mrs. Cooper, not as quietly as she thinks she’s being.

Alex rolls his eyes but walks through and holds the next door open, making sure to accidentally jab his husband in the stomach while he’s walking past. Burr grunts.

“Domestic bliss feels an awful lot like a bruised rib,” says Aaron, “accidentally” stomping on Alex’s foot on the way out.

Alexander gives him a blinding grin back. “At least we’ve both got amazing health insurance, right?”

 


End file.
